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Sisters

I have one sibling. Tiffany is four years younger than me. She keeps her hair shades of brown, while I highlight mine. She wears glasses, I wear contacts. She has three children, I have none. She lives on a farm out in the country and (while Joplin is no thriving metropolis) I live in a town. She hates mushrooms, apples make her itch, and she’s not a huge fan of sweet potatoes; all things I love and eat frequently. I drink wine, she (rarely) drinks beer. I speak my mind and she is thoughtful. I have an iPhone (#iphoneforlife) and she has a Samsung. She loves Hallmark movies and… well, I don’t.

Despite all these differences, we are very much alike. A funny thing we like to do when we are together and our mother calls is to see if she can tell our voices apart. I once broke up with one of Tiffany’s high school boyfriends for her over the phone and he never knew because our voices sound so much alike. We both are sleeping champions, frequently texting each other before nine at night saying “don’t call me, I’m getting ready for bed.” We both love holidays, especially Halloween and Christmas. When she is sad, mad, or excited I instinctively know and vice versa. We can bring down the house playing country rock band on the Nintendo Wii. We support each other, even if we don’t fully understand the choice. We can both listen to each other without giving suggestions (this is something she taught me). We’ve lived in ten different houses together in four different states and have always been each other's first friend upon arrival to a new town. I go on rollercoasters with her because she loves them, and she sings the song “Sisters” from the movie White Christmas to me the entire ride while holding my hand (and laughing at me) because I hate them.

I am thankful for my sister. I am thankful that she is my friend. I am thankful that she prioritizes our relationship because we are family and I do the same. 

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